Trust: Betrayed (32 page)

How must he look mounted over me?
Her mouth went completely dry and she closed her eyes as pleasure coursed through her body.

She loved how hard and big he felt as he sank into her, stretching her walls. She was completely at a loss to describe the overwhelming pleasure that took hold of her body.

Grabbing her tightly, he mercilessly forged on, his fingers digging into her hips, breaching her more, and commanded, “Touch yourself. I want to see it.”

She gasped as her own fingers touched her. It was daring and bold and made her feel powerful and free. She knew she wasn’t going to last long.

“That’s it,” he rasped, even more turned on. He pressed down closer to her back after he was fully inside her. He pinned her under his body as he braced himself on the bed. He placed kisses along her bare shoulder.

She moaned louder, urging him on. Her body quivered from the strong, intense pleasure and the last push to climax, when he withdrew almost totally from her and drove back in with one powerful thrust.

“Alistair Connor!” She cried out as excruciating ecstasy tore through her. Her muscles clamped down strongly on his arousal, as her body shuddered in a forceful release.

But Alistair wouldn’t let it finish like that. His fingers dipped again to caress her oversensitive clitoris. The vibration in her ass, his rough thrusts and his fingers brought Sophia once more to the edge.

“Come for me again,” he grunted, his breathing harsh, as he increased the depth of his strokes, building pleasure taking hold of her again.

The need to come grew from a steady ache to a gnawing necessity.

“Alistair,” she pleaded.

His fingers left her for a split second and she moaned loud when the vibrations in her ass throbbed quicker. He moved inside her again, frantically drawing out the climax until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel. She wondered if it were possible to die from too much pleasure.

“Now, Sophia.” He was too thick, too big, too deep. He plunged, his hips slapping against her buttocks, sending the plug even deeper.

A deep slam of his, in time with a pressured circle of his fingers around her clitoris and the taking out of the plug, was all it took to send Sophia over again, spiraling up in wondrous sensations and then down in powerful release.

Alistair drew torturous breaths as his own climax seemed to never end, Sophia’s body clenching again and again around him, leaving him dry. With a last deep and hard thrust, his world shattered and with a low and husky shout, he fell limply on the bed.

When Sophia opened her eyes again, Alistair was lying down on his side facing her. She smiled and whispered, “Hey.”

“Hey, you.” He scooted to kiss her on the lips and bring her to his chest. Looking down into her eyes, he asked quietly, “Was it good?”

She blushed and his chest trembled with contained mirth.

“I love it when you blush,” he whispered on her lips.

“If things keep going like this, there are two possibilities: I’ll either be blushing permanently or never again. I loved it.” She kissed his chest. “Alistair?”

“Hm?” He lifted her chin so he could see her face better.

“I want to know what your fantasies are.”

“You.” He grinned, his green eyes flashing beautifully.

“I better be.” She scowled and poked his chest with her finger, “But, really.”

“We are already working toward it.” His big hand ran over her back until he grabbed her butt and squeezed it.

“My ass,” she said.

He nodded but, in truth, his most ardent fantasy was to hear her saying the three words he had repeated so often already.
I love you.

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

10.35 a.m.

Ethan asked his housekeeper for more coffee and then turned to Scott. “You said you were keen on finding her secrets. So, what do you have to report?”

“Sir, I meant that everyone has things they consider too dark to turn public. She obviously has many. Too many disguises and subterfuges to just be afraid of criminals.”

“Hmm.” Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Maybe. And MacCraig?”

Scott produced an envelope from his leather suitcase. “Several love affairs, if you can call them that. A great many more one night-stands. An unusual marriage.”

“Unusual marriage? In what way?”

“His wife
and
her sister, - if you get my meaning, sir - were known for their weird predilections.”

“A threesome? That isn’t so unusual,” Ethan said.
You’d be shocked if you knew what my parents did.

“Oh, believe me, sir, there’s more.” Scott tapped the envelope with his new Montblanc pen. “This Heather, she didn’t try to hide it, although I didn’t find much about her. Before she died, their marriage was already breaking up and they both had multiple partners.”

“So he was unfaithful.”

“Apparently, sir, it was an accepted situation. An open marriage. I couldn’t find out exactly how it worked, but there are some clues in there. And, sir,” Scott’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone, “somehow Ghost managed to hack into his sister-in-law’s computer. She has lots of photos of them during sex. It’s all in there.”

Ethan looked at Scott as if he’d sprouted a second head. Then he chuckled, “That’s good, Scott. Very good. Remind me to deposit a bonus for you on Monday. Have you got everything prepared for today?”

Scott puffed out his chest, a habit Ethan found very amusing. “Of course, sir. Of course.”

“Good, Scott. Very good.” Ethan turned back to his papaya. “Inform Sophia she can have some time off until tomorrow night.”

Scott nodded and left the room thinking that the richer people were, the weirder they behaved.

Craigdale Castle.

11.07 a.m.

Sophia crept silently through the corridors and furtively stepped into the Blue Drawing Room. She went straight to the Steinway grand piano in the corner, the attraction too irresistible for her to deny.

She hadn’t played since Gabriel’s kidnapping, but something stirred inside her when Alistair had played for her the other night.

She closed her mind to the memories of Gabriel and how much he loved her playing. Resolutely, she sat at the stool and opened the fall lock. Her fingers caressed the keys and an uneasiness took hold of her. She forged on and started to play.

The door opened with no sound and Alistair entered the room. Hearing the music, he scanned the room and his brows shot up when he saw her. “You never told me you played, Sophia.”

She jumped away from the piano, almost falling in her haste. She felt as sweat rolled down her back. “Not anymore.”

Huh?
“What were you doing just now?” He strode toward her and commanded as he sat on the bench, “Come. I’ll play with you.”

She stared at him almost afraid of saying something.

He smiled reassuringly at her and making room for her on the bench, stretched his hand. “Play with me,” he invited again.

“My nails are too long and I don’t remember any song for four hands.” She stood there, glued to the ground, looking wide-eyed at him.

He played a few notes with his left hand and wriggled his right fingers in her direction. “Play whatever you want, I’ll accompany you. Come, I’m not expecting perfection. It’s just for fun.”

She shook her head, feeling her shirt getting wet under her armpits.

But he wouldn’t accept no for an answer. “Come on, I’m waiting,” he coached gently.
Sophia, don’t be shy.

Oh, God.
“All right,” she breathed deep, gathering courage, and sat by his side, “modern or classic?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“That good, uh? Listen... It’s been ages since I’ve played with someone. One day we can play together.” Sophia put her cold hand on his warm one and thought for a moment. “A classical opus and a modern piece. They’re small and easy, but I love them.” She took a deep breath and lightly set her fingers on the keys. “Hope you don’t mind the sound of my nails.”

The sounds of Beethoven
Moonlight
, piano sonata number 14, filled the room. She closed her eyes, concentrated on the song, and her lips moved as if in prayer.

So sad.
Alistair’s heart clenched in his chest. He looked at her face and was mesmerized by the many emotions.

She glanced briefly at him. Her eyes were dark brown and on her lips was an apologetic smile. Finishing, she launched into ‘Memories’ by Barbra Streisand and started singing. Her head dropped a bit and her hair fell from her ear, curtaining her face.

Alistair looked at her, entranced, and very slowly so as to not disturb her, he pushed her hair behind her ear. It was then that he noticed that there were tears in her eyes. He placed his hand on her thigh and squeezed.

Sophia kept singing, her fingers moving over the keys and so much emotion in her voice, it astounded Alistair. Towards the end, she dropped her head, her voice faltered as tears fell freely.

Sophia ended the song and put her hands over her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice strangled, “I should have chosen another song.” She felt his arms wrapping around her and she put her forehead on his chest.

Gabriel again.
“You still love him, don’t you?” he asked, despondent.
Is there room in your heart for me?

Sophia understood the meaning behind his question; it was the same way she had felt about Heather not so long ago. She dried her eyes and smiled sadly at him. “I loved him. Very much. He’ll always have a special place in my heart. We were married for seven magical, joyful years. He is the father of my daughter.” She sighed and looked down at her hands, “His death was so, so stupid. If not for me and my father-in-law, Gabriela would still have her father.”

“Your father-in-law?” Alistair asked puzzled. He remembered her saying that she felt responsible for his death, but she didn’t like speaking about it, so he knew little else.

She raised her head, anger and hatred burning in her eyes. “He killed his own son. The kidnappers demanded a ransom of about twenty-million pounds. Peanuts for Gabriel. Even for his father. But, oh, no. No,” she shook her head hard, “that awful man had to negotiate Gabriel’s life. His own son’s life. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Then after eighty days, he demanded proof that his son was still alive,” she whispered so low that he had to confirm.

“Proof?”

She stiffened and gripped his arms, her nails digging in. “They sent me... Me!” She squeezed her eyes shut, as if she could avoid the image that was forever imprinted in her mind. Battling the nausea that always rose when she remembered that day, she whispered, “His finger with his wedding band.”

Christ.
He breathed, profoundly shocked, as his hand stroked her back, soothing. “You didn’t have K&R insurance?”

She shook her head. “Brazil stopped being rated as a high risk country. Our cars were armored. We had bodyguards...” She shrugged.

“And your bodyguards?”

“Murdered. I don’t know how, I don’t remember.”

“Why didn’t
you
pay the ransom?” he asked, astonished at the absurdity and horror of the whole story.

“Gabriel’s father blocked any access to the police or the kidnappers and he appointed himself as the negotiator. I didn’t have the money. Not like that.” She snapped her fingers. “I didn’t have the access to Gabriel’s accounts. I had my own money and properties, and we had a small joint account. I never cared about his money. He gave me everything I could want...” she breathed. “Felipe tried to help me, but Gabriel’s father had too much influence.”

Alistair didn’t understand. “But you were his wife... In a situation like that surely the police would-”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t well for a long time. I got an infection from the gunshot wounds at the public hospital where I was first taken. Although they saved my life, the doctors at public hospitals in Brazil work under precarious circumstances. My grandparents moved me to a private clinic and I underwent two more surgeries on my arm over the next month. Also, from the minute I regained consciousness after the first surgery, I was unwell, depressed. I had amnesia and terrible panic attacks.” Her eyes turned to blistering fire and she hissed, “And my father-in-law kept me drugged.”

He frowned. “Drugged?”

She nodded vigorously, “I suppose he paid off a doctor.”

His brow creased more, “You suppose?”

“I was kept heavily medicated for almost two months. Psychiatric drugs. They controlled the panic attacks, but made me apathetic and dizzy. The amnesia worsened. They were prescribing a much stronger dose than was needed. My grandmother took me to a different specialist when I-” She looked into his face and whispered, “When I forgot Gabriela’s name.”

“Jesus Christ, Sophia.” His green eyes flamed with anger and his fist clenched on her back. “How could anyone be so cruel?”

“He never liked me. Well,” she stood up and paced the room, “to make a very long story short after they sent me his finger, I realized I was going to lose Gabriel. I stopped taking all the drugs, even the painkillers. I called the Federal Police Chief in Rio de Janeiro, a very good friend of Gabriel’s-

“Why? The police wasn’t helping already?” Alistair asked, confused.

“Not the Federal Police. It has no jurisdiction on kidnappings,” she explained. “Well, they started an unofficial search for him. After sixteen days, the police discovered where Gabriel was being held captive. The kidnappers suspected the police were closing in and killed him before escaping.”

This part Alistair already knew. Somehow coming from Sophia’s mouth it seemed more barbaric and cruel.

“No one,” she shook her head, “no one harms someone I love and gets away unpunished. His parents will never see Gabriela again. Never. They convinced a judge that I was a threat to my own daughter, based on the medical reports of corrupt, unethical doctors. A judge ordered that I have no access to Gabriel’s money, properties and business based on those reports and his parents became Gabriela’s tutors.”